


Infrangible

by Voido



Series: Perfect Circles [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spoilers, let ryuji say fuck, partly post-canon, post ship-palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-13 20:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14119875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: Everything was supposed to get easier after the interrogation. But some things are hard to forget, some errors too hard to mend.While Ryuji is haunted by his past, Akira dreads the future. At the end of the day, it all comes down to how hard they may fight, and what sacrifices they are ready to make.[Sequel toNext to Me]





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took forever to kick this out. I, again, wasn't sure in how many parts to split this, and how exactly I wanted to go about it, but I definitely needed a better explanation (and a heavily less _violent_ version of what happens after they escape the ship-palace. I still can't believe the girls beat Ryuji up after he saves their goddamn asses and it's supposed to be funny when it isn't and-)  
>  I'm rambling.  
> Either way, this'll (most likely....) be four chapters, and I hope you enjoy! <3

“I got this.”

When he closed his eyes, Ryuji could almost feel himself sound cool for just once in his life. The memory of icy cold water dashing at his face, the brutally hot flames trying to engulf him in a deadly hug, and the pain in his leg that was barely numbed by the adrenaline flooding him…it was captivating. Empowering.

Yet, when he heard voices, none of it managed to hold up. Someone was shouting his name, and the high-pitched aggressiveness assured him of it being Ann, even though his mind was clouded. Only she would dare to sound accusative alongside worried, and honestly, the idea of _anyone_ but her actually mourning the loss of him was still very foreign to him, even after all this time.

 _Shit. I'm doing it again_.

With a whole ton of effort, he managed to sit up. Everything hurt, and keeping his eyes open was like a mental battle against the approaching unconsciousness he might soon face. Not now, though. He couldn't give in quite yet. It was a miracle that he had survived, and he surely wouldn't show his appreciation for that by giving in now.

_Push onward._

His leg tried hard to stop him from getting up, but he fought back. This was the very first instance, since he had started actively training with Akira, that it hurt so much that he could hardly keep himself from limping. It was just another proof that even if normally, during everyday-exercises, he was mostly fine, there was no doubt he would _never_ be able to move like he'd used to. To run like he'd used to.

When he found the others, he also found that he'd been right. Ann was crying loudly, her face buried in her hands. The last time Ryuji had seen her like this had been when she'd reported about Shiho finally being stable – except back then, it'd been tears of relief; which he knew these weren't. He wasn't _that_ toxic toward himself.

“Jeez, that was close,” he said, trying to sound casual, his head almost exploding with the vibrations his own voice caused in it. It was almost enough to make him drop the facade and give in, fall back to the floor and let the agony, the _fear_ wash over him.

 _Shit, I almost- fuck, if that explosion had been any closer. Holy fuckin'- I can't breathe, I can't_ move _-_

“Ryuji…”

Ann's voice snapped him out of it, and he found himself staring at her tear-stained face. He'd made her cry – something he, at some point, had promised himself not to let _anyone_ do ever again. Giving in was completely forgotten then – he had to assure her he was alright. Maybe say something cheery, or even crack a dumb joke-

“You didn't die?”

It was Futaba, but unlike normally, she wasn't teasing – when he looked over, he saw that she was in fact crying as well; it was enough to make him feel twice as shitty in an instant.

“Huh? Why y'all crying? I'm alive, ain't I?”

There were a million things they could worry about – Shido, the elections, heck; even Akechi, if they really felt like it. But Ryuji? He'd worried enough people on enough occasion to last for a life-time, and he couldn't let them know-

The flat hand hitting his cheek was painful just as much as relieving. Ann scowled at him, incredibly mad at his attitude it seemed, and while it was disheartening to know that everyone saw him as _the idiot_ again right away, Ryuji knew it was for the best. This was a role he could fill, unlike the one he'd tried to take before. Trying to save everyone was surely laudable, but he couldn't find himself be able to deal with the aftermath.

“I was worried sick, you big damn jerk!”

“Sorry?” He did his best to _not_ actually sound sorry.

“You're unbelievable!”

She turned around to head off, suggesting to stop by in Shibuya's Central Street and get some crepes as celebration. This was alright. It was good.

_It's good she can brush it off so easily._

He watched all of them leave until only Akira was left, his eyes hidden behind his reflective glasses. For a second, just the smallest, tiniest, _desperate_ moment, Ryuji thought Akira might say something. Make sure he was actually alright, call him out for lying so obviously – after all, Akira could read all of them. He surely knew, didn't he?

Instead, he turned around as well to follow, and that was when Ryuji had to bite his lip and close his eyes to keep it in. All of his pain, the others' contempt, their anger, he could take it. Pile it all up inside him so they had at least one less thing to worry about. So that what after had happened to Akira, they wouldn't have to consider it becoming a norm that one of them got severely hurt. He could take it. He _would_ take it.

But with Akira leaving, it was like the world around him was slowly imploding, swallowing him up like the wave of fire he had barely escaped, reminding him way too soon of all the things he had tried so hard, managed so well to push into the back of his mind over the past few months.

_Worthless._

_I deserve this._

_\---- ----_

Crepes had never been one of Ryuji's favorites, but tonight, they were especially bad. The sweetness made him cringe, and the heat itched on his tongue – thinking about it, there was a good chance he'd accidentally bitten it while having been thrown out of the Metaverse. Overall, the celebration was crappy, even more so because he had to try and pretend everything was alright. Eventually, he said something about being _tired as fuck_ and rested his head on crossed arms on the table, closing his eyes to calm down.

There was no reason for him to be hurt or mad, right? He'd wanted them to believe he was entirely okay, that neither the run nor the explosion had hurt or scared him in any kind of way. It had been his decision to make them believe everything was fine, so of course they did. After all they'd been through – those weeks, no, _months_ of fearing to be caught, they finally had a real reason to rejoice. He felt dirty for wanting to scream, cry and go back for another chance to get himself injured enough so that he _couldn't_ pretend he was fine anymore. Because deep inside, this wasn't what he wanted for himself. He merely did it for their happiness while internally, he felt like he was dying.

Suddenly, everything was suffocating. Like every bit of oxygen had been burned around him, like taking even a single sharp breath would lay a rope around his neck and strangle him. His eyes widened in shock, one covered by his arm he was lying on, and the other staring at someone's hand on the table – it was Akira's, no doubt. Not only would Ryuji always choose to sit next to him; he'd also recognize the motions any day. The way Akira fiddled with his own fingers, as if he were searching for pieces of skin he could tear off – he never did, though, which always made Ryuji frown. It was like waiting for the climax of a movie only for it to never come.

And he did the same thing he'd always do in this situation when they were alone, not giving a single damn about who saw – he reached out, silently mourning the discomfort when his head was only supported by one arm anymore, and held Akira's hand, effectively stilling it.

He refused to look up and meet his friend's eyes. They both knew it was an innocent action that didn't have to mean anything, but they also knew that both Akira's fiddling and the fact that Ryuji was reaching out for him meant a whole goddamn ton this time around, and it was an incredible relieve to hear Akira say:

“I'll grab some fresh air, everyone. I'll take him, too, he seems to need to stretch his legs a bit.”

With that, they got up to leave the cafe. It was incredible how Akira could word things so coolly, preventing everyone from suspecting that he was hiding something. Ryuji admired him for it. Hell, he admired Akira for basically everything, but that wasn't any news either.

“Be careful, still!”

“Sure.”

They never returned.

\----- -----

For whatever idiotic reason, they had barely left the cafe before they both started running, Akira visibly going slow at first to let Ryuji lead the way. It burnt like fire in his bad leg, but he didn't allow himself to slow down before they had taken an extra long path and finally reached the station, leaving them with no chance but to wait for the train. Instinctively, he'd run to the line taking him home, and something in him hoped that Akira would just go along with it and join.

They both panted heavily, sliding down against a pillar, both still worn out from the Palace enough that the short run left them breathless. There was a tension building up, one that Ryuji wanted to break as soon as possible, but didn't even dare to scratch on with so many people around. Something inside him knew that if he even so much as cleared his throat, he'd lose it. So he didn't, instead reaching for Akira's hand again, intertwining their fingers to assure himself he wasn't alone. It was weird, but as long as he didn't think of it as being romantic, he had no issue with people seeing it. He'd hug Akira, compliment him, take his hand or even pick him up and carry him around if in any way justified, as long as now one could interpret it as weird, or funny, or-

“The train's here.”

He let Akira get up first and pull him up to his feet, almost unnoticeably leaning on him for a second because _damn_ , did his stupid leg hurt like a bitch. There were most likely still some of those super-strong painkillers back at home, and if there were any day worth taking them, it'd probably be this one. Right alongside a hot shower and mentally punching himself another good fifteen times for being such a weak, stupid idiot pretending he could be cool and strong just once. What a heresy.

They managed to grab seats, but Ryuji immediately jumped up again to offer his to an old lady who'd entered after them, and refused Akira's silent offer to have his instead. Hell no. As much as he appreciated it, it would only hurt his damaged pride even more. He smiled at the casual conversation the woman started, telling Akira what a _wonderful_ and _nice_ friend he had, and how happy she was that there were still people around who cared enough to help.

At first, Ryuji wanted to laugh, because that was not who he was, not what anyone saw him as, ever. He was a delinquent, a good-for-nothing moron who'd wasted his one chance to ever achieve something worthwhile in the future by punching his teacher due to his own short temper. Everything about him screamed _worthless_.

But then he saw the way Akira smiled, _nodded_ and agreed, saying something around the lines of _“I couldn't be more glad I met him”_ , and every single ounce of self-depreciation died in Ryuji's throat, leaving a weird sensation that almost made him cry. They all fell silent, and he did his best to look at the windows, at Akira's way too fluffy, way too messy hair reflected in them due to the darkness in the tunnels.

Maybe, Ryuji thought, crying was okay.

\----- ----

“Are you sure this is alright?”

They'd made their entire way to Ryuji's home without another word, again having silently agreed to run until they couldn't breathe anymore. It was hard for him not to chuckle at Akira's words, considering the dozens of times he'd spent over at Leblanc during either night or day, not a care in the world if there were customers or Sojiro or a very grumpy Morgana telling them to _go to sleep!!_

“Dude, you ain't for real. My mom _loves_ you.”

“She doesn't even know me.”

Ryuji laughed again, almost a bit nervously. While it was true that his mom had yet to meet Akira, she very well _knew_ a whole damn lot about him. Other than having been doing a lot better in school – which didn't mean _well_ , but _not-as-close-to-dropping-out-anymore_ at least – Ryuji had finally been out more often than not ever since they'd met. There was no way a mother wouldn't understand that as a big change in his life, as something, some _one_ new entering and entirely taking over it. She'd never made a big fuzz of it, but at one point they'd talked about it, casually enough, but for her to make sure he was actually doing okay and not getting in any trouble.

“ _I'll be home late, meetin' a friend!”_

“ _Will you ever tell me who this great friend is?”_

“ _His name's Akira, and he's the greatest guy in the world.”_

But he'd be damned to tell Akira about that conversation _ever_ , because it was still a bit embarrassing, even though entirely true. They quietly entered the apartment, but Ryuji stopped trying to be extra silent when the saw there was light on in the living room. Maybe she'd finally gotten that weekend off which she'd honestly deserved for weeks now.

“Ryuji?”

“Yeah, I'm home!”

Being with his mom was great, he loved her like no one else, but this wasn't anything he could share with her. He'd apologize to Akira later – maybe – but for now, he shoved his best friend into the living room, entirely ignoring his raised eyebrow and the small bit of resistance.

“Mom, this' Akira. Y'know…”

He didn't dare say more than that and swallowed nervously, suddenly a bit scared that them meeting would end in him getting embarrassed as hell. Both of them knew way more of his secrets than needed for that.

“Akira, this' my mom.”

His mom immediately pulled Akira into a short hug, before murmuring something appreciative and leading him over to the sofa. _Perfect_. It gave Ryuji more than enough time to disappear into the kitchen to rummage the cupboards for his painkillers. He'd only just regained his form somehow – he couldn't possibly let his mom find out he was doing worse again. The whole deal with him being a semi-trainwreck was still rather fresh, and hearing bright laughter from the living room only assured him that hiding it was the right thing.

He overdosed slightly without even thinking twice – anything to numb at least the physical pain for the night, until he was able to cope with it again. The fact that he was both incredibly tired _and_ fired up wasn't helping his poor form in any kind of way, and he had to support himself on the counter for a moment to catch his breath he hadn't even noticed being out of.

When he finally returned to the living room, he was greeted by a such incredibly clichéd mess that it made him wonder what exactly he'd expected instead. His mom hadn't taken long to do the most embarrassing thing _ever_ and grab some old photo albums, vividly commenting on the occasions they'd been taken at.

“This one might be my favorite. Isn't it endearing how he beams?”

“Definitely the face of a winner.”

 _Ugh_.

He slightly leaned over the backrest to get a look as well, regretting it right away since _of course_ it had to be one of him butt-naked at the beach, his wide grin showing hardly any teeth. Out of everything he could have come back to, why did it even surprise him it was this?

“Alright, thanks a _damn_ lot for doin' this to me, mom, now can I have Akira back before you crush all'o my self-respect, _please_?”

She laughed, and he couldn't help but smile at it, too.

\----- -----

They had just made it over to his room, door closed tightly, when Ryuji already felt warm, careful arms reach around him and tug him into a tight, nearly painful hug.

“Akira,” was all he could say before turning into a sobbing mess, burying his face in his hands, digging his nails into the wrinkled, frowning skin on his forehead, uselessly trying to calm himself down. Everything he'd been keeping in for hours finally broke loose, his body trembling maniacally, his head shaking mechanically, his heart throbbing as if he'd run a marathon and forgotten to breathe.

“I'm sorry for misreading you.”

Akira's voice was soft in his ear, managing to calm him down enough to even out his breath and think straight again. While everything else hurt as much as before, Ryuji understood at least so much – Akira hadn't left him be because he didn't care, but because he'd seen it as what Ryuji had wanted; and, to be entirely fair, parts of him _had_ , and-

“Fuck, dude. I can't blame ya. Ain't even sure what I wanted, other than for them to stop cryin'.”

“How bad is it?”

He felt a hand on his thigh, carefully reaching down to rest on his leg, right above the scar. It was so incredibly intimate that he couldn't withhold a shiver, and if it were anyone else, he'd probably yank their hand away and bring a good safe distance between their bodies. But it was Akira, and he was nowhere short of a safe haven to Ryuji, a pillar to lean on, like thick armor shielding him from life's terrors.

Akira meant freedom, and he was home.

“Ain't been hurting like this in months. Would gotta lie to say I wasn't scared as fuck.”

“Of?”

He sighed and lowered his head, aware that he'd have another breakdown if he just straight-up said it – and Akira noticed, _of-fuckin'-course_ he noticed, lead them over to the bed without ever letting go and positioned them so that they could stretch out their legs. It was relieving, to say the least, although the painkillers were already starting to kick in either way.

“I-I. If I can't run anymore, or even walk normally, th-then what am I even good for? If I can't be with y'all, there's no place for me to go. This shit ain't gettin' better and who knows how long I can still move, y'know? Maybe I'll end up tied to the bed, that'd be the freakin' worst, dude, I don't think I-”

“Ryuji.”

Heat rose up to his cheeks and he stopped rambling, clearing his throat trying to get rid of the disgusting, suffocating feeling spreading in it – to no avail whatsoever. He looked over to Akira, whose face looked pained, his arms still resting around Ryuji's middle and now pulling him a bit closer to prove his point.

“It doesn't matter if on your feet, in a wheelchair or a bed – the spot right next to me will always be yours, you hear me?”

“Not like I deserved it, dude.”

He wanted to shut up, to accept the genuine affection, the honesty in Akira's words, the fact that their friendship, for once in Ryuji's lifetime, wasn't one-sided. That he could ask whenever and be sure that Akira would make time for him, that it wasn't anything like those friendships where maybe you saw each other once a month and that's it.

He _wanted_ for it to be forever, but after so many discouraging disappointments, it was incredibly hard to believe it would be someone as outstanding, as _wholesome_ as Akira to give him everything he'd given up looking for months ago, years ago, or maybe even as a kid already.

He wanted this happiness, but something in him wasn't ready to accept that he _deserved_ it.

“ _Right_ ,” Akira replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow in slight annoyance, but not enough so that Ryuji felt depreciated – hell, as if Akira could make him feel that way, honestly.

“In case you forgot – you saved our lives out there. Literally. None of us could have managed to do what you did.”

“Except you got brutally beat up a month ago, in case _you_ forgot.”

And for some idiotic reason, they both chuckled. It sounded ugly in Ryuji's throat, snotty, and he had to snuffle to keep his nose from dripping. _Disgusting._

“Dude, I need a tissue, this is ew.”

He wanted to gently break free of the hug, already mourning the soon-to-come loss, but felt himself being pushed back before he could move, Akira instead getting up to fetch some tissues from his bag. His protectiveness was endearing, especially since he was so casual, so non-demanding about it. It was natural to him, as if even just the thought of letting Ryuji get up and put pressure on his leg were foreign to him.

“I ain't ever tellin' ya enough, man,” Ryuji began, stopping to wipe his nose roughly before snuffling again. “But you're the freakin' best. No fuckin' competition even.”

“It's cute hearing that from you with drool on your chin.”

They both laughed, and Akira jumped back up again to get away when Ryuji threw his grubby tissue at him as revenge. Not his fault that breathing through his mouth had him drool. Totally not his fault.

 

It didn't take long for them to decide it wasn't worth for Akira trying to grab the last train to go home – and that they both didn't want him to. He texted the group telling them they were alright, apologized for ditching Morgana – and Ryuji laughed when Ann sent them the words _“Make it up with sushi…and go to bed early!!”_ coming from the cat – and asked Futaba to let boss know he wasn't coming home tonight, although that was in private chat. Apparently, that was a new thing ever since the horrific interrogation – boss had pretended for the longest time not to really care, but that attitude was long gone, and it failed to surprise Ryuji that anyone would come to love Akira like their own child.

Eventually, they both settled down, not even bothering with getting another futon or more blankets. Something had slowly changed between them – or maybe it had always been a developing procedure – but they didn't need words to agree on sharing. When they'd turned off the lights and both stared at the ceiling, raindrops violently crashing against the window and flashes in the distance brightening up the room, Ryuji realized how much it reminded him of the night he'd begged Akira to be able to stay with him; one of his best decisions, in hindsight.

“Even though it's kinda over, I'm scared. Ain't I an idiot.”

A shaking hand reached for his, squeezing it tightly, pulling him a bit closer. It wasn't too cold in his room, but it still warmed him up. Maybe inside.

“I thought I'd lost you.”

For the first time tonight, Akira's voice cracked, and Ryuji immediately felt like the biggest moron in the universe. _Of course._ If his passion – track running – had ever taught him anything, it was that seconds could feel like light years depending on the situation. While he had been lying on the grass forcing himself to dwell on the feeling of strength, of having achieved something, of having saved his friends, said friends had feared the loss of him.

It reminded him all too well of the millisecond he'd thought Akira had actually died, and how it had thrown him into a momentary desperation, draining his will to live like the sun drying out a puddle. The thought made him feel sick and he did his best to push it away, instead looking over to his best friend. His anchor. His _everything._

“God, I _am_ an idiot.”

He reached out, wiping the single tear Akira had tried so hard to keep in off his face and took off his glasses, not sure why he was even wearing them anymore. Maybe to hide his eyes. What did they say? Eyes were something like the mirror of the soul, right? It would fit, Ryuji found, for Akira's eyes were mysterious yet welcoming, warm and beautiful. He reached over to put the glasses on the bed stand, careful not to put any pressure on his leg, as even if it didn't hurt anymore, he knew it could cause harm, and instead of leaning back stayed in the position afterwards, halfway lying on Akira, hugging him slightly and resting their foreheads together.

“Ryuji?”

“Mh?”

He tried to read Akira's expression, but with little success. It was just as confusing as the hand stroking Ryuji's cheek, or the warm breath on his lips making him feel almost mushy, comfortable and cherished. Treasured. Appreciated.

“There's a million things I want you to know when we can finally rest. After Shido confessed, after we can finally breathe for good. So don't ever scare me like that again, understood?”

“You got it, leader.”

They both nodded, and it was more than an agreement to see things through. It was a commitment. A promise.

_There's a future for us._

_You and me together._


	2. Mourning Losses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep this a bit consistent with the game's events, and would y'all believe me including Morgana's return was the hardest thing of all? ~~Which I am sure has nothing to do with the fact that I hate him haha amirite~~.  
>  I promise, I have some positive stuff planned for this fic, even if it seems little so far. ;~; Sorry! I love my boi and I want all the best for him, but it's not easy!

If there was a single thing Ryuji was sure of, it was the fact that he'd never experience a Christmas Eve as crazy as this one. They'd actually managed to not only restore the people's trust in the Phantom Thieves, but slain a _God_ in the process – and, honestly, he didn't think he'd ever in his life see anything cooler than Joker aiming his freaking gun at it, commanding some bad-ass Persona from hell to deal the final blow.

Part of him was glad they'd decided to part for today, for his body was aching like never before. Something wasn't right with his leg, he knew, and it wasn't just the fact that he'd taken a whole lot of blows in the last series of battles. It'd been getting worse ever since he'd made that crazy run for the lifeboat in Shido's palace, and now that he had the time to deal with it for good, it might already be too late.

“Ryuji, dear, are you alright?”

_Shit._

He'd promised himself not to let his mom know about the circumstances as long as he could still bear it,  but truth be told he didn't think there was a way around it. Still, bringing it up  _now_ felt terrible, and he sighed apologetically before looking up from his plate.

“Y-yeah, I guess. My leg's been givin' me hell lately, but I'll manage.”

That obviously didn't keep the worried look off her face, and he immediately felt bad for saying it. He still remembered last year's terrible Christmas – his injury had still been pretty bad back then, walking a chore, running but a far-away memory. She'd tried to cheer him up, but to no avail. If anything, he'd hoped he could make this years holidays easier for her.

“For how long?”

Her voice was scolding, but so incredibly,  _unbearably_ soft that he wanted to go hide, scream and punch himself for doing this to her. How did she deserve this mess his entire existence kept pulling her into? It was a joke, really. And not a good one.

“A few days only! I promise, it's not so bad. Just, uh, gotta take another break from runnin' and all!”

They fell silent, leaving it at that for now. Maybe he should go see his doctor whenever possible, but definitely not one of the next days. For tomorrow, they had all planned to spend the day as something like a farewell to the Phantom Thieves – sure, they were still friends, but it was the least they could do, also for the sake of Morgana.

Ryuji sighed and closed his eyes. Sure, he'd been fighting with the cat a lot, but at least in his opinion, they'd still been friends. The loss was too sudden, and it could only be worse for Akira, really. Thinking of him, he'd been awfully quiet in the group chat earlier – even more so than usually. While Ryuji wasn't the smartest person to begin with, he did somehow have good intuition, and it told him that something was wrong. Needless to say, he went straight for his phone right after dinner, trying to think of something good to say before just going casually.

 

_~Hey, dude. How're you holdin' up?_

_-Fine._

 

The answer came as immediately as ever, which was both encouraging and worrying at the same time.

 

_~U sure?_

_~It's kinda weird to think, y'know._

_~That it's over?_

_~I mean, what now?_

_-Nothing new._

_-We lost our powers, but not our will._

_-There's a lot more we can do to help._

 

How Akira managed to make everything sound easy and manageable would forever be beyond Ryuji, yet he couldn't help but appreciate it. It was probably true – they _could_ still help others, even if not as efficiently anymore. Still, it was weird thinking about going back to being a normal student who didn't fight gross monsters in their free time. Somehow, he felt like he would miss the pain of being hit, the flashes of electricity rushing through him, being worn-out by a long mementos run…

His phone buzzed, kicking him out of his trance.

 

_-I saw you limp on the way home._

_-How much worse is it?_

_-Don't lie to me._

 

And he smiled, because he had planned to, even if just for a moment. He wasn't a good liar in the first place, and just the thought of trying to trick  _Akira_ made him shiver. That would be more daring than challenging Makoto to a common knowledge quiz.

 

_~Dunno._

_~Hurts like fuck, can tell ya that much._

_~It'll be fine, tho. Expected this._

_-Go see a doctor._

_-And don't forget. Whatever happens._

_-I'll be there._

_~Dude, I know!_

_~...Thanks, tho._

 

He dropped his phone somewhere to his side and sighed, closing his eyes at the sting in his lung when he did. Today really had been extraordinary, and now that he was lying in bed – showered, sated and as comfortable as possible – Ryuji couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't already dropped unconscious. Sure, his leg meant trouble, but for now, he decided he'd have all the time in the world to deal with it at some other point. First, he'd enjoy having saved the world alongside his best friends. The people he loved.

\----- -----

Self-harm had never been a thing on Ryuji's mind, not even at the times where his self-contempt had been at its peak. Sure, he'd think about running until his legs gave in, his lungs screamed for air, his eyes teared up and his breath scratched in his throat, but all of that came with one or more positive sides to it – improving his form, freeing his head, training his body.

Now, he wanted neither of that. He didn't want to get better at anything, he didn't want to get a sense of positivity. All he could think of was tearing everything in sight into the very last unrecognizable shreds. All he wished was for his goddamn leg to just fall off and leave him in a messy puddle composed of his own blood, tears and misery. Suddenly, he craved each throb of his aching scar, the way whenever he took another step, it hurt a bit more.

Never before had he felt more like he deserved the pain, and never before had he found himself more stupid for the very same reason. Because no matter how much the thought of Akira being in custody _again_ hurt, Ryuji _knew_ that destroying himself wouldn't change the first thing about it.

It wasn't even like he hadn't tried talking about it. His first choice had been Ann, as he'd known her at least briefly before the Phantom Thieves thing and felt the closest to her out of the rest of them. But _oh boy_ , had she not understood him.

“ _How can y'all stay so calm?! I can't even think straight without'im!”_

“ _We know, Ryuji! We're all scared and we all want him back, but your aggressiveness isn't helping!”_

Because at the end of the day, he knew that this was what she saw him as – a dull, aggressive moron who didn't get the first thing about life. And hell, maybe she wasn't too wrong about that, either, or why else was it that everyone but him seemed to be able to find a reason to go on with their lives, while he couldn't get his mind off _saving Akira_ for even a second? It haunted him up to horrific nightmares, filled with memories of Kamoshida breaking his leg, flooded with distorted pictures of his father throwing bottles at his mother. It all rotated back to a time where Akira hadn't been there, trying to reach up and suffocate him with the painful reality of _you've lost everything that made you feel free again._

Ryuji knew that if he had ever been to have a Palace, it would have been filled with the dreams he tried so hard to forget and even harder to avoid, not allowing himself to fall asleep unless the dizziness almost made him drop unconscious. He'd call Makoto or Futaba or _anyone really_ in a dumb effort to be of any help. Neither did he have good connections nor any outstanding skills, and now that he could hardly stop himself from limping even when around others, he knew he was the definition of _useless_ for their operation.

The only thing keeping him from kicking a wall so hard that his leg would break _again_ were his mother's encouraging smile and the memory of Akira shoving up his _goddamn_ glasses and reaching out to help him up after a good run, smirking this beautiful smirk of his and making Ryuji feel cherished in ways he'd always longed to be by the girl of his dreams.

“Fuck me with a goddamn brick now, will ya,” he mumbled to no one in particular, throwing an arm over his eyes and closing them in the process. Of course, if there were anyone in the whole freaking world too dense to see his own feelings grow for months before, only to understand them _just_ after losing the person he held those feelings for, it would _have_ to be him, right? Because something would _definitely_ be too easy in his life if he could just be busy with mourning the loss of his best friend, and not the sad reality of having lost _everything_ he'd cared for lately.

“I'm a freakin' mess,” he decided, rolled over and didn't even flinch at the sharp sting in his leg, falling asleep before he'd even properly readjusted himself.

\----- -----

Things got better over the first weeks of January, even if the school days made it hard for Ryuji to see. Whenever people weren't busy talking shit about Akira, they returned to their good old hobby of whispering about _delinquent, stupid as fuck vulgar boy Sakamoto,_ at least on the good days – on bad days, they screamed it, and he found himself shouting “ _tell me somethin' I don't know, you piece o'shit!”_ in return more often than he'd like to admit.

It was the eighteenth, and regarding Akira, Ryuji was feeling a lot better. They'd found the victim of his original case, and according to Makoto's sister, her testimony could change a whole _lot_ in the on-going one, maybe even enough to get Akira out. That was great, and Ryuji had found himself able to hold up conversations with his mom again after being told, but there was still the constant pain he was in. For the longest time, he'd managed to keep it hidden, but today was especially bad, and the trip to Leblanc was horrifically painful. Ann, who was walking next to him, squinted, looked down then back up, and came to a halt.

“Didn't you say your leg was getting better?!”

“That was months ago, Ann. Stupid Palace got the best of me, and then that endless Mementos run on Christmas Eve…”

When her eyes widened, he realized what he'd just said. His whole coverage of pretending nothing bad had happened during their last Palace escape was, by that, busted, and he had to look away in order not to blush. _Shit_ , this had been the last thing he'd wanted to spill, and Ann had been the last person he'd wanted to know. She was strong, yeah, but he _still_ remembered her crying over Shiho for days, for weeks, and he didn't want to see her cry over himself.

“Y-you lied, back then, didn't you? And I didn't even notice…I slapped you…”

_Fuck._

“Yeah, but it's fine! I mean, I kinda aimed for that, right? Didn't want y'all to worry over nothin' and-”

“Nothing?!”

Heads turned their direction, and it made Ryuji realize how everyone else probably felt about him on every other occasion; after all, it would usually be him who'd react the way she had, and he couldn't help but look at her, the tears forming in her eyes making him want to take all his words from the last two minutes back.

“You're limping, you're in pain, Akira's gone and people are treating you like shit in school – I know, don't even _lie._ We all know!  To be blunt, they never stopped, but it was easier to forget when he was there, right? I know…because I feel the same.”

She was holding onto his shirt now, her voice hardly more than a whisper, each breath trembling, her head shaking as if she were trying to forget. He'd managed to make her cry  _again_ , and if there was something he wasn't good at, it was cheering up people who were in a bad mood – he didn't even know how to deal with his own pain, after all.

They stood in silence for what felt like years, at some point wordlessly pulling each other into a hug, both too tired to even try and figure out if it was a pool of tears or just the rain running down their faces. It was comforting, Ryuji thought, and he hoped Ann felt the same.

“We're gettin' him back, though, aren't we?”

“Definitely! I hope they're treating him better this time.”

He flinched, felt a strong shiver go down his spine and swallowed hard. A bruised Akira was the one thing he'd been able to ban from most of his nightmares so far, but knowing that he wasn't the only one thinking about it made it so,  _so_ much worse.

“Fuck, Ann…the stuff they did to him in one night…he's been there so freakin' long.”

The rain was almost louder than his own voice now, especially with him burying his face in Ann's hair. It was fluffy, even if not the same kind as Akira's. Ann's was more tidy and smooth, as if trying to prove just how much effort and love she put into  it,  smelled like berries  and made Ryuji calm down, even if just slightly so. 

And maybe it was the combination of all this – being close to Ann, having someone to mutually lean on, taking in the sweet scent so reminiscent of her character, knowing that whatever he felt, she somehow  _did_ understand, even if it hadn't seemed like that before, or the feeling of the rain washing away everything they shared right here and now, for no one else to ever see – that Ryuji found himself able to smile, lean down and whisper:

“I think I love him.”

Neither of them said another word,  and they knew they didn't have to.

\----- -----

Words weren't enough to describe the feelings flooding Leblanc the day Makoto asked them all over to announce  _something important_ . Ryuji didn't know about the rest, but judging from their reaction, neither of them had expected her words any more than he had.

“Akira is being released today.”

_Today_ .

Futaba screamed,  although Ryuji was sure she'd already known , Ann and Haru started crying on the spot.  Yusuke said something weird about needing to capture the atmosphere right away and started scribbling, and Ryuji just stared. Straight up gaped at Makoto, who in return smiled and nodded, as if to assure him that he'd heard her correctly. For the first time in over a month, Ryuji found himself able to sit up properly and take a deep breath, embracing the fulfilling smell of coffee to its fullest. Just thinking about being able to see Akira again, see him adjust his glasses, bury his hands in his pockets and smile as if nothing had ever happened…Ryuji wanted to scream, too, but before he could, Makoto was speaking again.

“Other than what my sister was able to accomplish and the woman who was assaulted by Shido prior to the initial conviction, there's been help from countless sides, including our teachers and multiple doctors affiliated to the lady running the clinic nearby. Eventually, that was enough to prove Akira innocent.”

She wiped a tear from her eye and smiled contently. For her, this was encouraging in more ways than one, of course. They were getting their friend back, but this was also her sisters case, and seeing her succeed was probably one of the greatest things ever.

“If I may ask,” Yusuke started, looking around the cafe as if searching for someone, “I did not seem to spot Sakura-san around. Does that mean…?”

“Yes. He is on his way to pick Akira up as we speak.”

And they would have all screamed at that, Ryuji was sure of it, if not for the bell right over the door making it noisily obvious that someone was entering. There was a heavy silence, but the most comfortable Ryuji could imagine, and he couldn't help his racing heartbeat when he got to see everything he had hoped to find the day he saw Akira again.

He adjusted his glasses.

He smirked slightly.

He buried his hands in his pockets.

He gave each of them an encouraging smile, and Ryuji chose to believe it was himself who Akira's look lingered on eventually. Because out of all of them, it was quite obviously him who was in the most need of this reunion,  and that was all the reason needed for him to jump up, ignore the pain shooting through his body, and make an attempt to storm over, only for Akira to be just a tad bit faster and catching him before he could get more than two steps away from the booth.

_No bruises_ , was the first thing Ryuji realized, and it was all he needed to pull Akira into a bone-crashing hug, knowing that he didn't have to be careful.

_He lost weight_ , was his second thought, only to be confirmed by Ann shortly after, when all of them had their chance to greet Akira back. Well, him and Morgana  right afterwards , which was both a surprise and relief to  all of them. Things were going fine, perfectly fine, as much so that part of Ryuji couldn't help but wonder if it would all come crashing down at some point.

But instead of mourning that possibility, he chose to indulge in the weight falling off his shoulders, in the way Akira put his hand on the table, fiddling around as if asking for it to be held, and the fact that Ryuji couldn't have cared any less about what anyone thought when he reached out, not even if he'd actually taken the time to tear his eyes off Akira for even a second.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured at some point, his heart racing even more when Akira moved closer to rest their shoulders against each other's, and Ryuji could have sworn that the whole world stood still for just a moment when they looked at each other, blissfully unaware of everyone staring, simply relishing the fact that they had each other back.

“I'll always be here. Next to you, remember?”

“Yeah. Next to me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Did you just use the title of the prequel as the last words for the chapter?"  
> "Fuck yes."


	3. Gratification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but I felt like splitting this chapter more into small episodes of realizations on Akira's side. I've got mixed feelings about it, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Most people his age would probably find this year's Valentine's Day boring, but for Akira, it was a storm of new experiences. No, he wasn't going out on a date –  _obviously_ , he thought sighing, for he wasn't sure if he'd ever voice his feelings, and neither if there was even any way to display them more bluntly than he already did – but he'd offered to work at Leblanc,  and he'd never seen the place even half as crowded as it was today.  He wasn't necessarily surprised by the fact that it was more  stuffed  – he just hadn't expected  _this_ much.

Thus, even though he'd really been okay with working today, he was glad when the last couple, as he at least hoped, had left and they could get to cleaning up. Sojiro had given him more than one weird look, and asked at least twice about why he wasn't spending the day with  _anyone_ .

“Jeez, kids these days. When I was your age…hoo boy.”

But of course that wasn't all there was to it. This had been Akira's first full day as a free man, not only released from custody, but also free of his prior criminal record. He'd been lying awake all night thinking about it, but it was still hard to believe.

He looked up from the counter he was cleaning when he heard the doorbell, not necessarily happy with the idea of another customer, but of course professional enough to still greet them with a smile. That was, until he saw who it was and found himself gaping.

“Ryuji?”

“I…didn't have anywhere else to go.”

They were ditched by a pitiful Sojiro and an annoyed Morgana in basically no time, and even though Akira thought it was most likely supposed to make him feel pathetic, he couldn't help but be glad. They'd severely lacked the time to talk in private the previous day, and judging by the way Ryuji forced himself not to stumble over to their usual booth, Akira was sure there was a  _lot_ they needed to talk about.

He took the time to make coffee for the both of them, making sure to oversweeten Ryuji's, and sat down in the booth as well. Normally, he'd suggest to go up, but he saw Ryuji shivering and knew that the attic was especially cold now, since he hadn't been in it all day, thus the heater had been at a minimum just to make sure Morgana wasn't freezing.

“Y-y'know, I woulda sworn you'd be out on a date, but then Futaba called you out for actually working today on the group chat. Couldn't help but laugh, dude.”

“It was quite alright, actually. Apropos, there are curry-leftovers from earlier, and I didn't get to eat yet.”

He didn't get an answer, and he didn't need one. Soon after, they had a rather sluggish food battle, which Akira easily won because the curry was a bit too spicy – he enjoyed it like that, and also the way Ryuji's eyes widened in unbelieving shock; _“Dude, how can you just gulp it down like this?! I'm dying here!”_

But eventually, it was over, and way too soon so, leaving them staring at each other in a weird silence – not necessarily uncomfortable, but heavy. They both knew there were things to be addressed, and neither of them was really sure how to do so. Akira took the time to clean both plates and cups more thoroughly than needed, his gaze however lingering on Ryuji, who himself was busy inspecting his leg, slowly rubbing over it, his expression pained. He'd been doing so well, improving so greatly; it just wasn't fair that him saving all their lives had caused him this.

After finishing the dishes, Akira wordlessly grabbed his friend's hand and nodded when he looked up, leading them both up slowly enough to not cause Ryuji any more harm, yet fast enough to not make him feel babied.

First realization: Akira had been right. The attic was freezing; if he squinted, he'd probably be able to see his own breath. He felt the goosebumps on Ryuji's wrist where he held him, and thus right after leading him over to the bed, put the heater a bit closer to it to make sure they wouldn't freeze.

“Sorry, I usually don't mind going to bed when it's cold.”

“Yeah, you tell me. Must be great bein' a freakin' furnace.”

He chuckled slightly, sitting down on the bed as well, and made sure for their legs to touch just briefly enough for it to possibly be coincidence. That was a hint, of course, but he knew he couldn't force anything. After all, he'd been hiding something as well, not telling everyone that he was going to turn himself in.

“I went to see my doctor, like ya wanted me to.”

It didn't need a professional to hear the frustration, the fear in his voice, and it made Akira's heart sink into the floor. This wasn't good – in fact, it was horrible, so much that he didn't even dare to ask if there was _anything_ he could do to help. Ever since they had efficiently helped the track team with their coach problems, he'd felt a strong spirit, a sheer immortal will to go forward from Ryuji. The promise never to give up again, no matter what hardships life threw at him.

Right now, frowning at his own body, the look in his eyes nothing short of disgust, it seemed as if every ounce of that conviction had been robbed from him, torn away alongside his powers of the Metaverse. Without a second self, without wearing oneself out to save people, it was easy to forget how many other good things life held – Akira knew, because he'd had seven very long weeks to think about it. The velvet room was gone, and yet he had found himself wake up in a cold cell every morning, unable to shake the feeling of having made a wrong decision off.

After all his efforts, after trying to save the lives of countless people, he'd ended up locked away from the people he loved, from the first place he'd been able to call home in _forever_ , and he wouldn't dare denying that it hadn't made him question any of his choices. Things like _what if I had accepted the Holy Grail's offer?_ or _maybe helping isn't the right thing to do after all_.

He'd punched the wall next to his head more often than not afterwards, disappointed in himself. Saving that woman, moving to Tokyo, awakening his Persona to save Ryuji, pushing onward as the Phantom Thieves – yes, they'd faced all sorts of pain, and way more often than any person should have to, but thinking about the people they all saved – their friends, themselves, their futures-

Well, not all of them. Even with his criminal record lifted, Akira knew he was going to be alone in a month, torn from the people who had grown to mean everything to him. Alone in a town he hadn't seen in a year, alone with people who hadn't cared about him even before that.

“What did they say?” he asked instead, forcing himself to think about anything but that. There would be time for it when it eventually happened, not now that he still had the remaining month to cherish what was right here, right next to him.

“Dude, she gave me _the look_. The one that screamed _the flyin' fuck did you do?!_ Said I definitely ain't runnin' in a while now.”

Ryuji sighed visibly, raising his fist and swinging it down towards his leg. He stopped right before hitting it, maybe because he didn't actually want to hurt himself, or maybe because Akira had reached out for his wrist and grabbed it calmly, but firmly. There was no protest, however, so he figured that it was most likely the former.

Yet, however negative these words were, how hard they seemed to accept, at least it didn't mean it was all over yet. Considering the shape Ryuji had been in on Christmas, Akira had halfway expected him to grimace at ever step, limp and hurt and fail to deceive all of them pretending he'd be alright. At times like these, he remembered how unbelievably strong Ryuji was.

Maybe, Akira figured, he could be strong, too.

\----- -----

They occupied themselves with the most casual stuff ever, playing games until the moon was at its peak, reading manga until the sun came back up, neither of them daring to say another word about either Ryuji's leg or the fact that Akira had turned himself in in secret – and not spilled a single word about his treatment yet, which, if he could, he would like to keep that way.

But there was only so much they could do before growing too tired, and only so many accidental brushes of their shoulders before they found themselves leaning against each other on the floor, the bedframe supporting their backs and their legs outstretched to each side of the heater.

“Hey, Akira…,” Ryuji started, sounding just nervous enough for his voice to tremble a bit, “Can I say something weird?”

And he wanted to reply with something witty, something clever, anything to lift the mood just enough for them to be able to go on, to not, yet again, spend a day together crying, but all Akira could manage to bring forth was a short:

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

His own voice had grown dry, tired, something he would usually not allow himself to happen, in order not to let anyone worry about him. But being with Ryuji, being in his comfort zone, knowing that there was not a single reason for Akira to be anyone but himself, he just couldn't bring himself to it.

He couldn't pretend things were fine just because he'd been released.

“Even though you're back, and I'm hella happy 'bout that, somethin' just feels off.”

He couldn't pretend he wasn't scared of his future.

“Like, nothin' will ever go back to how carefree it was, right? There'll always be those bad memories, those things that happened to us all, you in particular, dude.”

He couldn't pretend all their wounds would just heal with time.

“Yet, I kinda feel like it's alright? Ugh, man…what I'm tryin' to say is…”

Akira just couldn't force himself to pretend anymore.

“I think as long as I have you, I'm gonna be fine. Somehow.”

But that was fine, because he didn't have to.

“Me too.”

\----- -----

They did _try_ to talk about things one at a time eventually, when neither of them felt like playing games or reading manga, or whenever Ryuji insisted on running _just the tiniest bit, dude_ and Akira needed to give him the hugest frown in the world to snap him out of it. He didn't like to admit it, but it worried him. As much as he tried to push the thought of _going back_ as far away as he could, it made him wonder just how much it would influence all of his friends, and Ryuji in particular; Akira wasn't dumb. He knew Ryuji didn't wait for him after school five out of six days a week out of generosity. It hurt to think about, but the fact that the school would probably never end up seeing Ryuji as more than a brutal, vulgar delinquent was simply undeniable.

They were at the diner, but Akira couldn't bring himself to get any of his food down. Maybe because they were here for the third time this week, or maybe because he noticed the way Ryuji was rubbing his leg whenever he thought Akira wasn't looking, eying it in frustration and even letting out a pained sound at one point.

Akira knew Ryuji didn't want him to ask about it, so he didn't. They both knew it hurt, they both knew it disabled him from the one thing in his life he'd always loved, and it was still too fresh, too painful to be addressed. One day, they would have to, and if it were the day where Akira went home; just him making sure that Ryuji _really_ listened to his doctor, even with Akira not around to remind him of it.

Instead, they'd talk about random things. The fact that it was finally getting warmer, the magazine on the counter having a photo of Ann in it, what school would be like next year. It was forced, but it was genuine, and it was enough to have Akira nod when Ryuji finally said:

“I know you're waitin', man. For me to talk about this shit. Seriously though, aren't you in more need to vent?”

Akira set his glass of fruit tea down – a bit too enthusiastically.

He swallowed – a bit too hard to be nonchalant.

He let go of the glass – a bit too early, for his fingers dug into the table right afterwards.

Then he looked up – a bit too late, for Ryuji's reassuring smile was all he needed to know it was okay. Why he always forgot, he'd never understand. Maybe it was the fact that no one else ever called him out for his own problems like that. They'd think of themselves as more considerate, while really, as little as he wanted to, Akira couldn't help but find it pretentious.

On one hand, he was glad. From the day he'd first seen the velvet room, he'd known _taking the hit_ was somehow his conviction, his purpose. He'd listen to everyone's complaints, he'd provide all the help he could, he'd take the beating for anyone he loved no matter the consequences for himself – but sometimes, just rarely, when he let the little devil on his shoulder take over his mind, he begged that they would see through him, understand that he wasn't as tough as he'd made them believe all the time, and he wanted them to call him out for piling it all up instead of facing it.

In short: Sometimes, he wanted all of them to be a bit more blunt, a bit more adventurous. Perhaps, even if only a bit so; a bit more like Ryuji.

“Can we go somewhere else?”

Neither of them had finished their food.

Maybe, Akira thought, an innocent, hopeful smile on his face, they could enjoy some curry together, much later today.

And when they'd made their way to Inokashira, settling down beneath a bare cherry blossom tree, other than feeling the need to explain himself, voice his problems, fears and insecurities, Akira figured it was alright. Being here like this, the way they always were, just Ryuji and him, so far away from the rest of the world, disrupted by nothing but their own even breaths – it was enough.

The way Ryuji casually started rambling about a manga chapter he'd read earlier the day, the grin on his face growing wider with every word…

The way he frowned in anticipation, wanting to hear Akira's opinion on the same manga's villain – before blushing when Akira replied that he hadn't even known that said character was the villain because he hadn't read that far yet…

The way they both laughed it off, the sound of Ryuji's barking laughter filling the silent air with an indescribably beauty that easily made up for the heavy spoiler…

It was enough.

Things weren't going to go back to how they'd been before, but if they continued on to be the way they were right now, then Akira didn't think there was any more he could wish for.

\----- -----

The last month went by way too fast, especially in relation to the weeks prior to it. Before Akira had even had the chance to properly think about it, he was packing, making sure to wrap all his friends' presents extra-well; there was no way he was going to risk them getting harmed, and he planned of putting each and every one of them in his room back home.

_Home._

Thinking the word left a bitter taste in his mouth, for he knew it wasn't going to feel like it. Right here, even if it was an old, stuffed, still semi-dusty attic above a rarely-visited cafe; this was where he belonged, the place where he'd bonded with his closest confidants, made the best memories. Here, he'd b orne countless amounts of pain, being constantly reminded of the fact that he wouldn't be a delinquent, a criminal if he had just decided to look away.

_Just like mom and dad. Just like all of them._

But way more importantly than that, he'd learned that no matter how much it hurt, no matter how hard it was to keep going; looking away wasn't an option. He remembered his moment of hesitation, Arsene's voice calling out to him, making him realize that this was what he needed to do.

And that – the fact that Akira knew he would never question his choice of helping ever again, that he would never back down and take the easy way out – was the exact reason he couldn't stay in this place he loved so much. At least not now.

“ _Why can't Sojiro just adopt you, though? Come ooon, Akira, you're the cool big bro I never had.”_

He wished he could.

“ _Are you sure you have to leave? Can't you just…stay?”_

He really did.

Yet he wasn't dumb, and definitely not naive. It didn't matter if his criminal record was lifted or the Phantom Thieves gone; if he decided to stay, he would, without a doubt, cause trouble for the people he loved. And that wasn't something he could allow himself to do.

“ _I promise I'll come back. It's just the third year, then I'll return.”_

It was but a year. Enough time for society to find something else to talk about, and enough time for everyone's life to go back to normal. After that, he could come back to them, without feeling like an unnecessary burden.

When he got up to go say goodbye to his friends, he decided to leave his glasses in the attic.

\----- -----

Saying goodbye was better than he'd thought for the most part. Sure, everyone was sad to see him going, but he had a hard time mourning that – after all, that was exactly what he hadn't gotten from his parents, who hadn't even cared enough to look at him the week prior to his transfer to Tokyo. Even when he'd talked to them a few days ago, making sure they actually acknowledged he was coming back, he hadn't felt any kind of regret in their demeanor – the will to welcome him back home, yes. But not the smallest ounce of realization that they had treated him wrongly.

And because of that, he couldn't help but linger in the heartbreaking, loving hugs he got that day. The scolding look from Makoto, telling him to keep his studies up while trying to look casual, handing him a copy some of her own notes. The bright smile from Ann, assuring him she'd mail him every issue of magazines she was featured in. The drawing Yusuke handed him, all of them as mice wearing their Phantom Thieves masks. The flowers from Haru that smelled just as lovely as she always did. The unexpectedly bone-crashing hug from Futaba, causing him to pat her head just the way he knew she liked it. The sheepish grin on Ryuji's face when he gave him the initial drawing of the first Phantom Thieves logo, explaining how he'd never forgotten that Akira had been the only one to call it good, and that he should be the rightful owner.

Sure, on one hand, it hurt. Not meeting them anymore after school, not casually going to the diner to study, not going to the gym, the arcade or the mall. He'd miss all of this.

But when he found himself in Shibuya the next morning, just the tiniest bit worried about Morgana having left off without him after all, right before spotting his friends in a sky-blue van waiting for him to join in, he knew he didn't have to.

In this one year, he'd experienced a million things, good and bad, and no matter how many miles there were between all of them, they'd find ways to stay the way they were – _family_. It didn't mean he wasn't scared - because he was, more so than ever. Of being alone again, of not having a place where he belonged. Of having to live the same dull, unfulfilling life he'd unknowingly been living before coming here. But out of all the things, what he'd learned the most was that he alone was the one to make the choice; drown in despair or fight for hope. There was only one choice, and he knew that his friends would have his back when he made it.

And that was more than enough. It was encouraging, promising.

It was good.


	4. Succession

Thinking about it with the cold breeze engulfing all of them, mid-march might not have been the most ideal choice of time to spend their last days together on the beach. They'd gotten lucky enough – it wasn't supposed to rain or storm at all until the end of march, but that didn't mean they wouldn't freeze in the evenings.

“Mhh, I smell salmon! _Saaalmooon!”_

“Morgana! Wait until it's cooked!”

Considering how loud they were, it was probably for the better though. There were hardly any people around, most of them probably having decided to spend their vacation either at home or somewhere at least slightly warmer. It was good, giving them the freedom to talk about whatever came to mind without having to fear someone hearing, and without having to fear annoying anyone around.

It was a means of saying goodbye in a positive way. Making some last great memories together before facing the reality of their group splitting up. Really, they should enjoy it as much as they could, go all out and welcome April in the best way possible, but no matter how good the joke, how delicious the food or how cheerful the banter – no matter how hard he tried, Ryuji couldn't bring himself to keep his smile up as soon as no one looked his way.

All of this…it was fun. The sun was setting, forcing him to squint a bit to read his manga better, but he was fine with that, since he'd gotten used to reading them in the dumbest, most poorly lit positions ever, so he was basically a professional. The thought made him snort in disgust. Wouldn't that fit, considering there was nothing else he was good for anymore?

He flinched heavily when he felt a tickle in his side before the manga was tugged from his grasp and a clearly human weight landed on him.

“You're hiding something. Tell me.”

Sure, Akira's voice was low, and no one seemed to bat an eye at them yet, but the position was highly suggestive, and Ryuji couldn't help but frown. It was one thing for Akira to detect that he wasn't in a good mood – which, really, didn't need a mastermind to be seen – but the fact that he also had a clue on Ryuji _hiding_ something…

He was painfully aware of how much too fast he shook his head, sighed and closed his eyes. Why was he even trying? He'd known from the start that he wouldn't be able to hide the truth from Akira forever, and also didn't really want to. After all, Ryuji appreciated just how open and honest they could be with each other.

“Not here, dude,” he eventually whispered, the raised eyebrow on Akira's face making him shiver. While he'd hoped for that statement to at least postpone their talk to later, when everyone was sleeping, _of course_ Akira had a different idea. And maybe for the better, because deep down, Ryuji knew the longer he kept it to himself, the worse it would be to eventually get it out.

“Hey, how about a campfire later? Vulgar boy seems bored enough to go collect some wood.”

Another stupid excuse, and another instance of everyone else just buying it – Futaba leaving a very loud remark about how she'd already planned for this and packed marshmallows just in case. It was comfortable enough of a joke for Ryuji to go along with it while Akira pulled him to his feet, also to overshadow his painful expression when his leg protested.

“A delinquent wantin' to show me wood. I ain't got a good feelin' about this!”

He dodged the piece of bread Ann threw in his direction and couldn't help but chuckle at her predictable reaction. It was enough to let the others go back to cooking their food, although Ryuji was entirely sure that Makoto gave him and Akira a questioning look. They both ignored it, escaping the scenery as fast as possible without it looking suspicious – and without Ryuji's leg killing him. It was probably a lucky coincidence that the piece of beach they'd chosen was right next to a forest, but knowing Makoto, there was also a slim chance she had planned it – most likely something about the trees blocking some of the cold air or _what-fuckin'-ever._ Ryuji didn't care for it, other than the fact that it got him the chance to be a selfish dick and have Akira to himself. He'd had that for most of the last four weeks, but considering these few days would be their last together for a long time, he decided to allow himself this bit of egoism.

At first, neither of them said a word, instead looking for some proper, dry pieces of wood plank so they could _actually_ have that campfire later. It wasn't until Ryuji's leg gave in for merely half a second, causing him to stumble and curse – loudly, filthily – that Akira sighed, stopped and nodded toward a tree stomp nearby.

_Damn it._

There was no sense in trying to deny the pain he was in at this point, so Ryuji didn't and simply complied. His leg thanked him for when he sit down and stretched it out, but the look Akira gave him made it extremely hard to appreciate that relief. None of this was going anywhere it was supposed to, and this was only the first day of their farewell.

“I think I remember you saying you felt _free_ around me. Wouldn't that include not feeling the need to hide things from me?”

Until now, Ryuji had been afraid he'd be met with anger, disappointment even, but right now, he'd _wish_ for it to be that. Instead, first and foremost, Akira sounded _hurt,_ and that was multiple times harder to deal with. Just why was it so goddamn hard to hide something from him without feeling horrible about it afterwards? It wasn't like Ryuji was doing this out of malice – he simply wanted for their last days together to be cheerful.

“It's…I, dude, I didn't…this isn't how't was supposed to go. I figured I'd manage, and we could have some fun before you're…”

_Gone._

_Taken from me._

_So far away you'll probably find someone better._

“…back home.”

“Don't be stupid.”

He flinched, genuinely shocked by the statement. Akira never called him stupid, no matter how much everyone else did, but right now, he was quite obviously mad about something, frustrated even. Was this really only about Ryuji's leg? Because thinking about it, he wasn't sure. To make it clear that he hadn't meant ill by it, he said:

“Sorry? I didn't wanna offend you, dude. But, isn't that it? Truth hurts, I can tell ya, but you'll be gone in a few days.”

He hated himself for saying it out loud, because it made him realize how incredibly unready he was for all of this. It felt like he'd never had the time to prepare for Akira leaving his life – hell, he felt like he'd never be _able_ to be ready for it, no matter how much time he were given.

“Sure, but how exactly is it supposed to be _home_ if you're not there?”

Something hit Ryuji, he was sure. A brick or a knife piercing right through his heart, it was hard to pinpoint, because after hardly a second, it faded into an engulfing warmth embracing him. Maybe he was stupid, after all, but each and every time he heard Akira say something so incredibly appreciative, it surprised him anew. By now, he should have gotten used to it, but he doubted he ever would. How could someone this amazing be willing to be his friend, let alone so much more than that?

“Man, I…I'll never stop forgettin', okay? I'm sick of bein' a burden, and it's weird t'think you ain't seein' me as one.”

“Ryuji, I need you to understand that. It's fine if you're not ready, but if you're hiding something in order not to annoy me…you'd never, okay? I'm always here for you.”

_Next to you._

“Yeah…yeah, you're right.”

Clinging to the planks in his hands, trying hard to hold back tears, Ryuji realized he wasn't ready yet. But when he looked up to Akira's reassuring smile, he understood that it was alright.

“Maybe…just a bit more time would be great.”

They ended up bringing back an insane amount of wood, after challenging each other to another mindless battle of theirs. Ryuji had eventually won by just a few planks, although Akira's were admittedly probably dryer.

“You guys sure have the weirdest wars.”

“Sorry, didn't hear ya 'bout how amazin' we are!”

Obviously, they didn't get the fire started without Futaba almost getting her hair burnt to a crisp in it, and Yusuke killing his first marshmallow because he was too focused on the _natural beauty carried by those flames in the wind._

It was nice, finally being able to spend time like this together without any negative thoughts accompanying it. No need to worry about any deadlines, anyone being on their tails, or the thought of straight up possibly _dying_ in the goddamn Metaverse. Ryuji missed the thrill, sure, but there were undeniably upsides to just being normal teenagers spending a normal evening on a pretty damn normal beach. Thinking about it, he felt like he might get used to this.

_How ironic_.

Eventually, everyone grew tired, and they realized there were two tents that wanted to be set up still. To everyone's surprise, Akira was a natural – Ryuji mentally slapped himself for the thought; _of course_ it had to be another thing Akira was good at, after all.

“Camping is just what you do when you live in a village-y town, you know?”

He'd mentioned that his home-town was rather small in comparison to Tokyo, a thought that most of them could hardly imagine. Ever since he could think, Ryuji had been living in small apartments in huge buildings on cramped streets, pressing himself against people on the train trying to accept the fact that personal space wasn't a thing. It made him wonder if he would even miss it if those problems were to suddenly vanish. Sure, lively life had it's upsides, but sometimes, it was suffocating, too. He wasn't one to think much into the future, but right there, Ryuji couldn't help but wonder what living in rural areas would be like.

Then again, he figured, it wouldn't matter. As long as Akira was there, too.

\----- -----

The days went by way too fast in the end, but that was the same as every kind of vacation ever. The weather had been exceptionally fortunate, the water warm enough to spend at least _some_ time in it, and the forest wide yet overseeable enough to enjoy exploring it without getting lost.

Eventually, when everyone else was most likely already asleep, Ryuji found himself lying close to the water, regretting the fact that he hadn't taken his blanket out with him. He could go back and grab it, sure, but he had most likely woken up both Akira and Yusuke earlier already, and he wasn't planning on doing so again. Instead, he watched the stars, shivered and let his thoughts roam freely.

Tomorrow, they would drop Akira off at home and head back to Tokyo. He'd been with them for almost a year now – probably the shortest year of Ryuji's life so far, but also undoubtedly the best one – and now it was all going to be cut off for the sake of…what, really? It didn't make sense to him. Akira's parents hadn't seemed to care much before, and hopping from one school to the next and back again couldn't possibly be a good or desirable thing either.

“Are you planning on catching a cold?”

He flinched so hard that it probably counted more as _jumping_ , which evidently looked funny enough that Akira had to muffle a laugh.

“I didn't wanna come back'n wake you up, man!”

“Sure, sure.”

Ryuji sat up and already felt a body dropping down next to him, a blanket wrapping around both of them. As always, Akira was a warm as a goddamn furnace, but the fact that Ryuji had been freezing more than he'd realized was also part of why the whole thing felt so damn good. Other than how good being close to Akira felt overall.

“I'm sad.”

_Drop the bomb now will ya._

There was something endearing to how incredibly casual he was about these things. Not a single try to whitewash it, no mumbling, no insecurity. Just the straight-up truth. Maybe it made things easier. Maybe it made them harder. It didn't matter, Ryuji decided when he leaned in a bit closer, and hesitantly said:

“I ain't gonna be runnin' anymore. At all.”

It wasn't a proper answer, but he knew Akira didn't need one. This confession was more than enough to scream _me too_ loudly, which was evident when they both fell silent for a long time, their shoulders brushing, their knees touching, their hair tickling each other's ear and both their breaths and heartbeats lining up to a steady, calm rhythm. They were in sync, like they'd always been, and if he could keep but one moment of his life going on for all eternity, Ryuji would have easily chosen this one. Like this, warmed up by each other's presence, it wasn't any easier to accept, but so much easier to bear. With Akira right here, Ryuji felt empowered.

“Should'a expected it, really. Been gettin' worse, after all.”

“Has it really? Things seemed fine before…It's my fault you-”

“Hold it there!”

Only when he'd said the words, he realized how loud his voice had become – it was natural for him when he was excited, in either good or bad ways. Hearing Akira blame himself for literally _anything_ that had happened in this past year was so unbelievable to Ryuji that he found it hard to control himself.

“Dude! Akira…nothin's your fault, not a single fuckin' thing. 'Cept the fact, maybe, that thanks t'you, I have a reason to go on _even though_ I can't run anymore.”

It hurt, every single time he said it. He couldn't run anymore. He _wouldn't_ run anymore. Everything he'd been fighting for all those years, all the times he'd almost passed out after a good run, all ruined thanks to one goddamn shitty adult thinking they had the right to do whatever the freaking hell they wanted.

And yet, no matter how much it hurt, how hard the feeling of regret wanting to creep up inside Ryuji yet _again_ , no matter how much he _already_ missed his racing heartbeat, sweating, panting, pushing himself as far as he could and just a slight bit further-

He finally understood he could bear it, as long as he wasn't alone.

“Y'know why my mom loves you so much, dude?”

“No. Although I have to agree. She seemed quite positively biased towards me.”

They both chuckled, and Ryuji remembered the super-embarrassing photos his mom had shown Akira back then. Back before they'd been separated for weeks. Back when things had still been new, fresh, exciting in the worst ways, natural in the best ways.

“She knows how much you've done for me. She knows that when you entered my life, things finally looked up. I dunno where I'd be without ya today, and I ain't interested in findin' out. Just…really, dude, you saved me back then. Don't blame ya'self for any of this shit.”

“You're the one who told me to run without even knowing me. You wanted to save the volleyball team in Kamoshida's palace knowing the guards could easily kill you, since you didn't have the power of a Persona. That's at least as admirable, you know?”

Somewhere deep inside, he did, so he forced himself to nod, even though it wasn't what he actively felt like. Telling Akira to run had been natural – he hadn't even _known_ Kamoshida, why would he die by the bastard's hands? Helping someone in any kind of need just felt right to Ryuji, but he didn't see it as anything that made him special.

“I'll miss this, man. That you're nice and ain't even lyin'. Though I'm an idiot sometimes, you never make me feel like one. I'll just miss it, dude.”

“I won't be out of the world, Ryuji.”

_Just hundreds of miles away._

“I know.”

_But that doesn't make it much easier._

\----- -----

It was but a heartbeat's time for Ryuji before they already found themselves in Akira's hometown – which, really, was wonderful. Almost like a village, so entirely different from Tokyo. They passed by countless small or big parks, and all Ryuji could think was:

_Holy shit, running here would be fuckin' amazin'._

He wondered if Akira would make use of that, even without him. If he would miss something when he ran all those countless miles of peaceful environment. A small, tiny jealous part of Ryuji didn't want to imagine Akira without him. It was petty, and he mentally slapped himself for the thought, but he couldn't stop it. Being even the slightest bit less part of Akira's life – even if that bit was _only_ running – was still something he could not accept yet.

“Oh, what a lovely house.”

Haru's voice calmed him down a bit, and it was only yet that he realized they'd arrived. She sure wasn't lying either, for – _holy shit_ – the place was huge. Maybe it shouldn't be much of a surprise; after all, Akira's parents had been able to just pay Boss for taking him in – although Ryuji didn't know how much they'd paid for it, and he doubted that Akira did.

But seeing such a beautiful, lovely house, front garden with a goddamn _fountain_ on it, neatly decorated windows…it was slightly breathtaking, to say the least.

“You never mentioned having lived so fancily,” Ann commented with a happy smile, already visibly eager to see more. Ryuji was sure she was screaming inside; this did seem like just the thing that fit her. Pretty, extravagant, presentable. He couldn't blame her, though, cause he adored it as well.

“It's not that great,” Akira just shrugged though, leading them all inside. Spoilers: Bullshit. It was freaking amazing. Different from the way of _richness_ that Haru lived in, that much was for sure. You could easily see that Akira's parents were rather _upper-class_ , but for some reason, it still felt way more homey, and way less _rich_.

“ _Not that great_ my goddamn ass. Where's the fifteen guest rooms? Fancy bathrooms? _Dude_. Gimme walk-in wardrobes and I'm tellin' ya Ann ain't comin' back with us.”

“Shut up, Ryuji! …You're not wrong, though.”

“Hah!”

They ditched the hall and headed for the stairs, everyone following Akira like a group of school kids. It was less painful so far than Ryuji had imagined – he'd been pretty negative towards the idea of staying the night here at first, because who knew how much worse letting go would be if he got more time to think about it? But since Makoto was the one who'd have to get them back home, too, it was only fair to let her have some rest and proper sleep.

The most confusing part easily was the silence – it didn't seem like anyone else was home, and it seemed even less like anyone was going to address that topic. There was something almost sacred in how quietly they followed – minus Morgana jumping around already making himself at home. If he had any kinds of cat instincts, it only made sense that this was going to be a paradise for him, especially compared to one simple attic.

“This place truly holds for an uncountable amount of-” Yusuke began suddenly, and before he could even finish the sentence, Futaba shouted:

“Akiraaaa! Show us your room already!”

They all laughed and the mood rose significantly.

Maybe, things didn't have to be that hard.

\----- -----

“Make sure to keep your studies up. I put a few of my books to your belongings since I don't need them anymore. Study them well.”

“I will, Makoto.”

“And don't do anything stupid. You may not be a criminal, but at times, you're way too reckless for your own good. Keep an eye on Morgana, too-”

“Makoto-”

“I'm expecting you back in Tokyo next year, so take this seriously!”

“Mako- Hm? Oh.”

She was crying. Things were getting so goddamn real, weren't they? Ryuji was torn between admiring Akira for the straight face he forced himself to keep while pulling her into a hug, and punching him for it. This wasn't the time where he had to be strong for any of them, and yet he still refused not to try. What a goddamn stupid, _considerate, wonderful, perfect_ idiot.

They all knew it wasn't going to be forever, and yet…letting go was so weird, so wrong. It was as if they were ditching Akira, forcing him to go back to an environment where he hadn't been welcome before; then again, he'd never sounded like he minded too much. Maybe he was tired of getting in trouble. Maybe he wanted to believe that he could be happy with his family.

“I know we've already disbanded, kind of,” he suddenly started, taking a step away and giving all of them a reassuring yet demanding smile.

“But if you'd all allow me, I'd like to issue one last order, as our former leader.”

No one dared to say a word. Without taking his eyes off Akira for even a second, Ryuji knew that they all agreed on this: No matter what, if they were still Phantom Thieves or not; in some way, Akira would always be their leader. Whatever his order, they would obey it.

“Take all what we've learned, experienced in these months, and make the best of it in the coming year. I'm expecting smiles and laughter the next time I visit. Oh, and one more thing.”

He took off his glasses; which was funny, because he hadn't been wearing them all week in the first place, but maybe it just felt right to him to let go off them today. He looked at them shortly, took a step forward and handed them over to Ryuji, who in return didn't quite understand.

“I'd like you to hold onto these for me.”

Of course he did, without hesitation.

“They've been my disguise when I transferred over, but I know I don't need to hide anymore. I owe that to everyone here, but…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

They ended up in a painfully tight hug before he'd finished speaking, and no one dared saying a word. Were they even still there? It didn't matter. This was it, their very last moment together for a _long_ time now. As much as it hurt, it was soothing. Handing over something like this was like a promise to return, even Ryuji understood that much, and he had no way of properly showing how glad he was about the act. He hadn't known that he needed it, but with this memory, this relic of a time that had been cut way too short, he could be assured – it wasn't over yet, not until they allowed it to be.

“Don't you forget about em, though. They'll be waitin' for ya, right with me!”

_I'll always be yours._

“There's not a single place I'd rather be.”

_And you'll be mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished another thing, _w a t._  
>  I'm sorry there wasn't a good ending to goodest boy Ryuji's leg getting worse over time, but he'll manage! Maybe...somehow. ~~I have about fifteen headcanons about how his future will unfold because of this, and it's so tempting to write all of them.~~  
>  Thanks so much for reading this, for all the kudos, comments, bookmarks...<3 And see you next time!


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